Extroverted Reflections
by blackfrostx
Summary: "You can try and erase me, but you will remember these seconds forever." Avengers AU. Natasha/Loki, Steve/Tony and implied Clint/Natasha Rated M for strong sexual content, drug use, language, etc.
1. Square One

Out of all the things Natasha has imagined herself doing with her life, this definitely isn't one of them - balancing on her knees and bending over the lap of her pimp as she does lines of coke off of his white forearm. Although he isn't a dealer himself, Loki always seems to have the best stuff and she can't possibly refuse when he demands she take a hit. Denying him would mean returning home - if she's lucky, since sometimes the selfish Aesir held her for days - sporting a fresh black eye and attracting the attentions of Steve who'd be all over her in a heartbeat, acting every bit the caring father.

Shakily, the redhead pulls away from the other, his piercing green hues boring into her skull, and unceremoniously wipes her nose clean with a rather unflattering sniffle.

"How much?" Natasha murmurs and Loki allows himself a throaty chuckle. Her head is spinning and she feels the euphoria setting in.

"Seven lines. Almost the entire gram."

"Fuck," She hisses. "You were supposed to stop me at four."

Normally Loki is nothing but calm and collected; with the job he has, being anything but would get him in a world of trouble. However, this is his place, his own private house of whores, and when one of those whores says a word against him, even the slightest of whispers, then you can fucking bet that he's not going to be all puppies and kittens. Within seconds, Loki grabs Natasha by the hair, tugging so hard she swears she hears the strands literally rip from their pores, and pulls her close, his breath cool and acrid against her skin.

"_I _was supposed to stop you?"

The next thing she knows, her hips are pressed painfully against the edge of a nearby table, hands splayed out on the surface where, earlier, Loki had carefully cut her first rails. He's forcing her forward, one hand still entangled within her curls and the other raking at the small of her back. He has half a mind to break her fucking skull, to smash her pretty little head against that mahogany top until he can paint pictures with her blood, but he won't because Natasha's his favourite, his golden girl - that and he can't risk another visit from Fury and his merry band of boys in blue. They've already been called twice within the past month and it doesn't help that he'd finally decided to put a bullet in the brain of that ungrateful bitch Maria for bringing in less than a hundred bucks that week. Fury will be suspicious, he always is when it comes to Loki and his run-down, yet somehow popular, dump of a club. Although he's not doing much in the way of restricting her air, Natasha is having trouble as she squrims and writhes beneath Loki's hands. With a bit of a grunt, he pulls her up, again by the hair, and against his lanky frame. Her nose burns and her body aches; all she wants to do is go home, but that isn't happening until Loki graciously gives her permission. Well, at least she's not dead yet.

"You know full fucking well how our arrangement works, little spider. You knew when to stop, but you kept going, didn't you?"

Of course she did. If it were any other day, Natasha would have inhaled that fourth line and stopped unless he told her otherwise, and it's a rare occurence when Loki tells her to do more than four lines a gram. Silently, the female nods her head and stares intently at her feet as his hands slide from her hair, slender fingers wrapping themselves around her neck like snakes, and when she doesn't respond verbally, his grasp tightens. He feels the strain in her muscles and the pull of her tendons, so easily torn and broken, as she swallows whatever bile had risen in her throat. Once again, he feels the urge to cause her pain, immense pain, and he should in the way of punishment for that mouth of hers and the gram of pricey cocaine she'd nearly downed; it's hard to resist. Instead, Loki takes her chin in one hand and twists her head round, leaning in until green eyes meet blue.

"Didn't you?" He growls, emphasising each word through gritted teeth.

"Yes."

"Yes, _what_?"

Natasha doesn't hestiate in answering. Her words are short, clipped - she's long since lost the high that would've lasted longer had she not been so careless, and niether does she particularly feel like being rewarded with a beating tonight. All she wants is to let the guy fuck her and get the hell out, though it won't suprise if she's feeling better by the time they finish, she always does.

"Yes, master."

Loki narrows his eyes, closes the gap between them and crushes his lips against her own. The full on kiss that ensues is not gentle, anything but chaste, and holds the potential for something more. Natasha's mouth is a thinly painted line, though she doesn't think twice as she parts her lips and allows Loki's prodding tongue to slither past, immediately finding the other in a devilish dance of flesh and saliva. He tastes of alcohol and she does as well, though he always seems to find a certain taste about her tongue - a strange, otherworldly flavour that somehow reminds him of blood and a sweet fruit that he can't seem to put his finger on - though how she has come to acquire that taste, even he doesn't know. He's already flipping her body so that she's facing him, and Natasha can't help the moan that tears itself from her throat as Loki haphazardly makes a grab for her shirt, pulls it up and is fondling her lace ridden breasts in one fell swoop. Her bra is literally nothing but a thin, weary piece of lace and cloth, practically useless save for the fact that she's able to feel every sweep of Loki's cold, calloused hands as her nipples pearl and harden beneath them. The music drifting in from the room beyond fills her ears as he continues, his mouth drifting to her lower lip, her jawline, her collar bone. He has this sickening grin tugging at his lips, one that makes Natasha want to slap it right off his damn face, but also one that she knows all too well. It's the same grin he wore the night they met, and the same grin that silently tells her that the time for worship is now.

Loki isn't about to let Natasha off easily, nor is he going to allow her pleasure before his own.

"Kneel."

Natasha has always assumed that it's his favourite word, and the way he says it is enough to send shivers down down her spine. He has this whole theory about how Humans are meant to be ruled, about how they need domination and while that may be true for Natasha who finds herself guilty of loving Loki's dominance, not everyone feels the same way. But the liquid heat that pools in her lower belly each and every time he tells her to get on her knees, is evidence enough of her need for him to rule her. It embarrasses her to think that such an independent and strong woman such as herself submits so willingly, like a dog rolling over for a treat - if Loki told her to jump, Natasha was damn well sure she'd ask how high.

She sinks to her knees, her sapphire hues still focused on his own, and reaches out with cautious but eager hands to find his trouser buttons, pleased that he didn't request she use her teeth. Loki's hands are already in her hair, idly fingering through the auburn strands as Natasha finds his cock, errect and hard. Just the sight of it makes her shudder with anticipation and she immediately leans forward and pushes him into her mouth, tongue already making its rounds as it swirls and rubs against the head. Loki lets out a pleasured groan and Natasha almost smiles against his cock, already anxious for his climax, anxious to feel it, hot and heavy as it runs down her throat or stains her skin.

"Fuck, Tasha." Loki manages to grunt as he begins thrusting his hips, shoving himself farther down her throat.

Almost too quickly, he's already pushed himself to the hilt, his entire length pulsing against the walls of her throat. Natasha loves the feel of his cock in her mouth, the way it slides along her lips as she all but sucks him dry. God, it's really all she can do not to reach down with the hand that isn't squeezing his balls, and play with herself. She's horny as hell and probably won't be getting any anytime soon, but touching herself before he comes is against the rules and would only earn her a run of the whip. After what happened last time Loki used it, Natasha can't really afford another trip to the hospital again, nor does she want to think of some near believable excuse as to why her body would be littered with red, bleeding welts. Explaining that to Steve was damn near horrific, though Natasha could tell that he needed no excuses. He knows what she does to earn her keep and although it sickens him and he'll never approve, there is nothing Steve can do.

She's humming as she works her way around, sending vibrations up the length of his shaft and drawing a moan from his lips. It's quick but he's close, so close and Natasha is silently praising herself. Several more strokes of her tongue, an inhale, along with the hollowing of her cheeks and Loki pulls his cock from her mouth and allows himself one last groan as he comes in her face - and that's just when an frustrated and angry Agent Clint Barton bursts through the door. The whole scene is one big fucking mess and Natasha can clearly see the myriad of expressions that simueltaneously manage to taint Clint's features. Confusion, anger, pain, overwhelming jealousy. Years ago, back when Natasha was an acceptable, albeit extremely poor, member of society and a senior in high school, she'd been in a relationship with Clint. She'd always had a thing for older guys and he was one of the nice ones; fuck, Steve even approved of him and it wasn't often that he approved of Natasha's boyfriends. Clint took pretty good care of Natasha and even gave her some cash here and there when she really needed it, maybe she even loved him a little, as he did her. But a year or two later when Clint became an official officer, working under Fury, Natasha ditched him for Loki and immersed herself in a life of dirty sex and drugs. She was wrecked and Clint wanted to help her so desperately, to see the face of the Natasha he once knew, but she turned him down at every chance he got.

Now, Clint is trying his hardest not to look at Natasha, with Loki's cum practically dripping from her cheeks, her hair tousled and eyes bloodshot. She's confused as to why he's there, why he had suddenly gained the nerve to fucking kick the door down like some Hollywood movie ninja, but there's still a job that needs finishing - Loki is even looking at her rather expectantly as he tucks himself back into his trousers, ignoring Clint for what it's worth. So, she makes a show of wiping Loki's seed from her face, or some of it anyway, places her fingers in her mouth and allows her tongue to run over them, sucking in a half-hearted parody of the oral pleasure she'd just given him. The salty taste is familiar, drawing a sly smile to her lips as her actions earn her a smirk of approval from Loki.

"What do you want, Barton?" The satisfied Aesir inquires, moving to pour himself a drink from a dated bottle of scotch. He sounds amused more than anything and Natasha finds that she enjoys watching him as he slinks about the room like a lion on the prowl. She won't move until he gives her the okay and when he does - it's nothing more than a wave of his hand, like he's some sort of fucking prince - she stands and adjusts her blouse, finally covering her exposed breasts. Her face is streaked and she fancies a shower (and Loki's fingers buried in her cunt, working her over, not to mention), but in all honesty, Natasha really wants to know why Clint has made an appearance because usually he wouldn't caught dead in Loki's place. It's either one or the other and in the end, despite the fact that she figures she'd have chance to get off in the privacy of a shower stall, Natasha chooses to wait.

"I'm here for Natasha."

At Clint's response, she all but jerks around to face him, brows furrowing in annoyance. So he's trying to take her away again, to get her help. How many times has she told him to fuck off now? A hundred, maybe more? It seems like every other day he finds her and orders that she give up the life she lives, but Natasha doesn't take orders unless they come from Loki himself. Loki, in fact, seems to find Clint's response favourable, as he still hasn't rid himself of the shit eating grin that taints his features.

"My apologies," He begins, as if trying to fight the urge to laugh in Clint's face. "But Natasha only sees a select few, well paying clients-"

"I don't see you paying up." Clint interjects lamely.

"Ah, yes, but you see, Agent Barton - Natasha is mine. She works for me, she _serves _me, therefore I own her. What, may I ask, is the point of paying to use something you own?"

The agent is silent and Natasha notices as he slowly reaches down to put a hand on the gun at his hip. It's probably some sort of comfort thing, but she doesn't take any chances and keeps a close eye on him. Clint can potentially blow Loki's brains out and call it self-defense. No one would question him, considering it's Loki, a big name in the crime syndicate and not some innocent bystander.

"Clint," Natasha finally lets out in an almost exasperated sigh. "I'll go with you. No questions, nothing. Just don't do anything stupid." She eyes the hand that's still resting on his gun as his finger strokes the trigger. Anyone can tell he's just itching to draw it, itching to feel the warm splatter of Loki's blood across his face. He's hated Loki even before Natasha came along, but now, he hates him even more for destroying what little innocence she had left. The man took everything Natasha had and ruined her, and she just let it happen. Clint, once again, is at a loss for words and only responds with a subtle nod as Natasha returns to Loki and looks him directly in the eyes. He quirks a brow, as if to question her motives and lifts a hand to Natasha's lip which she appears to be leaning down and kissing, but then that telltale sound of inhalation can be heard and it's obvious that Loki allows Natasha yet another hit of cocaine - for the road, one would say - and right in front of Clint, nonetheless. He's an officer of the law and should be reporting this, considering the use of cocaine in any form is undoubtedly illegal, though Clint could never bring himself to land Natasha in the slammer.

"Tomorrow, Natasha." Loki deadpans as she turns from him. He needs no response because they all know she's going to be back, there's no doubt about it. Natasha won't try to leave Loki, not for good, because he'll find her, always has. After several attempts at escape, Natasha realised that it was no use and simply gave in. She chose this life; She wanted it and still does, just like she chose Loki, wanted him and still does. Without him, Natasha is nothing, something she's been forcing herself to believe ever since they started this fucking thing they call relationship. She is his and that's the end of it. Period.


	2. Let It All Out

Riding with Clint is awkward, more awkward than she remembers it being - perhaps it's because she _still _has that bit of Loki's cum streaked across her face. It's dry now, obviously, though still easily seen and Natasha has long since forgotten it was there. Luckily, Clint doesn't talk much, that or he really just doesn't feel like it, so Natasha can get away with focusing on the soft leather of the seats or looking out the window as the city zooms past. It's not every day she gets to ride in a car without having to focus on her client, so she's actually feeling rather relaxed - that is until a cloth of some sort is thrown her way, lands in her lap and brings out of her dazed reverie.

"Clean yourself up, Tasha. You look disgusting."

Disgusting, huh? Is that how he sees her now? The fucking pompus idiot even has the nerve to be informal with her and she bristles with annoyance, picking up what she can now tell is his own handkerchief and fumbling with it. She's been feeling hyper-sensitive since the drugs have kicked in somewhat, though it pisses her off that she hasn't been able to get a real high all day.

"Jesus, Barton. You really know how to flatter a girl, don't you?"

"Just do it. You're a goddamn disaster and it's kind of sick knowing you've got Loki all over you."

Clint's jealousy couldn't have been more blatant and it strikes Natasha as quite sad that such a high and mighty cop is jealous of some sick psycho who has nothing better to do with his time than get high and order sluts around. Perhaps Clint wishes he were Loki, so that he could do the same; or is it the fact that he still has feelings for her and wants her back? Either way, Natasha is torn between feeling bad for the guy and sheer amusement. Loki really is rubbing off on her.

"Jealous?" Natasha purrs as she absentmindedly wets a part of the cloth with her tongue and begins to dab at her cheeks.

"Not in the slightest. I just don't think Steve would be too happy if you walked through the door looking like that," He replies smoothly. At the look Natasha shoots him, Clint clears his throat. "He called me earlier, said you haven't been home in days. He hoped I could find you and bring you home."

"I'm surprised the guy didn't file a fucking missing persons report like last time. He needs to just leave me alone."

The car comes to an abrupt stop and Natasha nearly flies head first into the dashboard. She never wears her seat-belt and is now thinking that it may be time to start. When she looks over at Clint, he's gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles are white and she can tell she's crossed a line.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, Natasha?" Clint begins to bellow. "Steve takes you in, puts a fucking roof over your head, uses what little money he has to provide for you and this is how you repay him? He treats you like his daughter and yet all you can do is bitch and moan. You think Loki can do better on your part? Then _you _leave Steve alone. He doesn't need a whore like you."

Natasha has been talked to in this way before and normally she can't find it in herself to give a shit, but Clint's words hit her hard. He's right, but she won't be the first one to admit it. It's taking a hell of a lot not to cry in front of him and Natasha can feel the tears burning behind her eyes - she's never cried in front of anyone and she as hell isn't going to cry in front of Clint fucking Barton. So, biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, Natasha throws open the passenger door and clambers out onto the sidewalk; luckily they're close to Steve's apartment, so she won't have to walk far. She makes quite the show of slamming the door and stomping off, doing everything in her power not to break down into tears.

It doesn't surprise her when Clint immediately calls after her, his voice feeble and filled with concern. "Tasha, wait."

In response, Natasha throws up her middle finger, gives him a good fuck you, and continues on, determined to forget all the shit that has just happened. But in that moment, it starts to rain - just her luck - and Natasha begins to realise just how worthless she is, how alone she is. Loki doesn't really love her as far as she knows, and Clint, well, she's fucked that one up hasn't she? Steve only pities her and Tony could give a shit.

Maybe she really is better off dead, like her father used to say.

"Too bad I'm not that lucky."

x x x

It takes Natasha nearly an hour to reach Steve's apartment when really it should have only taken no less than ten minutes, and she blames it on the pouring rain rather than her own lethargic sluggishness. Jesus, if only Clint hadn't shown up. She could've had a brilliant fuck and probably ran up that high her body had been screaming for all day, but no, here she is, trudging up the stairs towards the place she calls home, soaked to the bone and feeling like shit. What a great fucking day.

"I'm tired of the endless bullshit you put up with!" Tony's voice echoes from above and Natasha can hear the front door creak and slam against the frame.

"Tony, please, I just worry about her, that's all. Can't you understa-"

"No, Steve, I can't fucking understand why you continously allow yourself to be walked all over by a pathetic skank you picked up off the streets! She doesn't give a fuck about you or what you do for her, why don't you see that?"

Natasha hears nothing after that and assumes Steve couldn't find it in him to reply. He loves Tony, he really does, but the man can be horrifying when he's angry.

"I'm sorry, Steve. It's hard to be around you when you've got your little cocaine princess on the brain. Give me a call when you get rid of the thing, would ya?" And that's that. Tony makes his way down the steps and crosses paths with Natasha just as she makes a move to continue on up. She doesn't want to talk to Tony, never has, but something tells her he's going to talk to her.

"Well if it isn't the crack whore. Welcome home, princess." He drawls.

"Fuck you." Natasha spits, pushing her way past him. She wishes she were covered in mud so she could get that finely pressed suit of his all dirty.

"Sorry but I don't do sloppy seconds, uh, especially not when those sloppy seconds are Loki's."

Natasha can only sigh in frustration as she scrambles up the last few steps and avoids a nice trip to the cement below. She hears Tony mutter a few tangled profanities but nothing more as she slips inside the house and closes the door behind her. The rush of warm air that envelops Natasha as she makes a halfhearted attempt at drying herself off is entirely too welcome and she can't help the smile that traces her lips. It's a dinky, two bedroom place with off coloured walls and ugly shagging carpets, everything is worn and yellowing, but to Natasha, it's home. For a moment, one single, insignificant moment, Natasha is happy and that smile she managed to allow herself actually sticks - but then there's Steve sitting on the arm of the couch, looking forlorn and something not unlike a kicked puppy. Well, so much for that. He doesn't seem to notice her, so Natasha makes her way into the living room and places a careful hand on his shoulder.

"Clint finally found you?" He asks after a moment of heavy, impregnated silence.

"Yeah, I suppose he did. I didn't think you'd mind if I stayed out for a while."

"You could have at least told me where you were, Tasha. I do worry about you." Steve still hasn't given her even the slightest glance and instead his blue eyes are glazed with indifference, focused on the prickly stucco of the wall directly in front of him. He's upset about Tony, that much is obvious and Natasha can't help but blame herself.

"Next time." She replies softly, and Steve finally glances up at her, this time with a smile - one that tells Natasha that he's finally breaking.

"Yeah, next time, of course."

She's done so much damage, to the point where everything is almost unrepairable now and the realisation is only just beginning to dawn on her. There's no use dwelling on what would have happened had she not left Clint for Loki or any of that "woulda, coulda, shoulda" bullshit, no. What's done is done and Natasha isn't coming back from this. If she could apologise to Steve and to Clint, just tell Loki she's through being his little slave, then she would, but things aren't that easy. They're never going to be that easy.

It's a long time before either of them speaks again and this time it's Natasha, who is now fumbling awkwardly with the hem of her shirt. She's not quite sure what to say to Steve, for fear of him breaking down like Clint had, but eventually decides to go with something that will allow both of them the time they need to recuperate.

"I think I'll go take a shower - if you don't mind, that is."

"No, no. Go ahead, Tash. You kinda smell bad anyway." That last bit is said with a meager, brighter grin than the smile he'd previously wore and Natasha finds it in herself to return it.

Later, after she's taken her shower and is significantly lacking in Loki's musk and the stench of sex, not to mention donning a clean set of clothes, Natasha's stomach lurches when she finds Clint in the kitchen with Steve. She'd wanted to have the night to herself with time to relax and perhaps even talk things out with Steve, but now that Clint's there, there's no point in even trying. A frustrated sigh escapes her lips and the two men turn their gazes towards her. Steve looks significantly happier now, but anyone can tell he's still missing Tony, while Clint, as usual, wears a hard, stony expression that doesn't soften as she'd expected it to.

"Squeaky clean, darlin'?" Steve asks, his blue eyes alight with a mixture of sheer innocence and naietivity. The look scares Natasha, makes her nervous to the point of butterflies in her stomach, and she feels as though the two are hiding something from her. _Really, what could it possibly be? _She asks herself, recieving no acceptable response. _Just ignore it and move on._

"Yep, or I guess, as clean as I'll ever be." As she finishes her sentence, the severe growling that sounds from her stomach reminds her that she hasn't eaten all day, and the drugs hadn't helped in that department either. "Uh, do we have anything in? I'm starving." Instantly, Natasha is met with an ice cold stare from Clint, almost as if he doesn't approve of her eating. Or is it the fact that he found something wrong with the way she spoke to Steve? Either way, the Hawk's presence is making her feel extremely uncomfortable and mixed together with all the other shit that's going on, it's just not a good combination.

"Unfortunately, no. I think Tony cleaned us all out." Great, just fucking great. First Tony treats Steve like shit - on account of her, not to mention - and only after he came and ate their food? What a fucking asshole. The guy is a goddamn billionaire and he still finds the time to take advantage of other people, but then again, that's what billionaires do anway, isn't it? For a moment, Natasha can't help but wonder what Steve sees in Tony, or what Tony sees in Steve for that matter. They're both part of two different worlds that just don't add up; Steve's an aspiring artist, taking college classes to better himself and only able to keep up with rent due to his part time job as a shop clerk. His paychecks are meager at best but they seem to work. Tony, on the other hand, is a goddamn genius in his own right and the CEO of some major company that Natasha can't seem to remember the name of. He's better off then they'll ever be, and that's pretty damn obvious seeing as how you don't see Tony standing on the street corner, selling himself for money or wasting away in a lame 1940s nostalgia shop. Perhaps that's why Steve is so happy with Tony, because he's willing to give him a few hundred bucks every now and again just like Clint had done for her several years before. But then again, Natasha can tell that there's more than just money and gifts between them, something that brings them together and allows them to love despite their drastic class differences. It's this type of thinking that brings Loki to mind and she finds herself wondering if maybe he really does love her.

"Hey, why don't I go out and get something?" Natasha says suddenly. She'd go and pick up some food, maybe bring it back if she can manage and then leave again. Tony will come back, Steve will be happy, especially knowing she's alive and not dead in a gutter somewhere, and she can go back to Loki's place for the night. "I've got a twenty or two, maybe I could pick up some Chinese?" Steve purses his lips for a moment, as if questioning the situation but then nods his head, just about to answer before Clint - surprise, surprise - does so instead.

"No. You're not leaving again, Natasha." Looks like Clint was one step ahead of Natasha the whole time. He isn't stupid and can clearly tell what she's thinking, knows her tricks.

"Come on Clint," Steve says in exasperation. "She'll be right back, won't you Tasha?" God, he's giving her that kicked puppy look again and Natasha just wants to curl up into a ball and die. It'd have been easier if Clint hadn't opened his fucking mouth, but no, he did and now she's letting Steve get to her.

"Steve, I know you know better. Keep Natasha here or she's going to go out and get herself in trouble again! Do you know where I fucking found her? At Lo-"

"Don't even start." The blonde sighs in exasperation, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he were fighting off a headache and somehow looking years older.

"No, you-"

"Clint that's enough." Steve's normally soft features are now contorted in an ascetic expression that almost sends a shiver running down the length of Natasha's spine. She's never seen the man look so formidable and clearly Clint hasn't either. Steve has evidently tired of all the bullshit he'd had to suffer through that day and is not going to let Clint walk all over him like he can't think for himself. "I know where Natasha goes at night. I know who she's with and what she does; I'm not one to judge. If she wants to go out and let Loki fuck her then that's her choice, Clint. She's not a little girl anymore and she doesn't need either of us breathing down her back." To hide the faint smile that tugs at her lips, Natasha lets out a pitiful cough and covers her mouth with her hand. It's hard to believe that Steve is sticking up for her in this way - maybe he's finally coming to the conclusion that he doesn't have to stand by while Clint tells him how to look after her. However, speaking of Clint, he's evidently frustrated with this turn of events judging by the fact that he gets up from where he sits at their worn kitchen table and angrily shoves his chair back into place, once more eyeing Natasha.

"Steve may be enough of a fucking fool to fall for your shit, Nat," He says, completely ignoring the fact that Steve is right there and may or may not take offense to his insults. "But I'm not going for it. I'm staying here and making sure you don't leave this goddamn apartment." Even Steve doesn't bother replying and merely lets out another frustrated sigh. He can't bring himself to kick Clint out, and besides, the dude's a cop - kicking him out would feel like some sort of federal offense. Natasha, on the other hand, is absolutely fumming and she wishes he'd just keel over and die right then and there. Hell, Natasha would strongly prefer being on her hands and knees while Loki deals painful gashes to her ass with a riding crop than be stuck here with Clint the rest of the night, but it looks like she'll have to deal with it.


	3. Home

Steve leaves a few hours later, allowing Natasha the much needed satisfaction of knowing that he's going to see Tony. The two have made up after a long phone conversation and Tony is fine as long as Natasha isn't around, which is just dandy because she's fine as long as Tony isn't around. So it's pretty much a win win on both sides, aside from the fact that Clint still hasn't left and he probably won't until he's damn well sure that she's not gonna go out and let some guy, let alone Loki, have his way with her. Natasha has already tried the money argument, telling him over and over that it's the only way she's able to earn what keeps both her and Steve on their feet most of the time; that and a steady supply of coke from Bruce, but she doesn't divulge that little bit of information. So now, here she is, sitting on the couch and as far away as possible from Clint, while the two watch _The Prestige_. Natasha has seen it dozens of times but she demands they watch it after Clint suggests _The Princess and The Frog. _For a guy who pegs himself out to be some huge bad ass, he sure has shitty taste in movies.

"I don't get it. What's Wolverine trying to do?" Clint says after a while and Natasha groans, wishing she had a joint or something. Anything to make this torture just a little easier.

"His name is Angier," She replies hastily, suddenly remembering the pack of cigarettes she stored in the drawer of the end table some time ago and reaching over to pull out the carton and lighter. Clint doesn't seem to notice until Natasha lights the lovely cancer stick and brings it to her lips for a drag. "And he's trying to figure out how Borden does his fucking trick. Watch the movie, you're like a five year old." Smoke wafts from her nostrils as Natasha exhales and sighs in relief.

"Do you think Steve would approve of you smoking in the house? Let alone at all?" He asks offhandedly, almost as if he were purposely trying to piss her off.

"Jesus Christ, Clint, just shut the fuck up. It's bad enough I'm stuck here with you." Obviously it worked. She's annoyed, he's silent and Natasha could have sworn he was just trying to hide a smirk.

By the time the film has ended, Clint is asleep, head lolling to the side and arms folded across his chest. He kind of looks like he'd be ready to jump up and pull a gun were someone to come in unexpectedly, and Natasha has no doubt that he would, but she's just thankful he's finally crashed. Instantly, the thought of sneaking out crosses her mind, making her feel as though she were some stupid teenager trying to be rebellious, but she instantly dismisses it, knowing Clint would be on her ass the moment she walked through that door. Of course, the window is always an option, but that's only if she doesn't mind falling the three or so feet to the concrete below - the fire escape is covered in rust, really nothing more than a sad piece of crumbling metal - and although she knows there's a slight chance she could get up and walk away from something like that, risking it doesn't seem like the best option. She goes through several more potential escape routes in her head before finally giving up and turning out the lights, haphazardly throwing a blanket over her watcher's sleeping figure and retiring to her room. Like the rest of the apartment, it's small with hardly any space for anything besides her bed and maybe a desk if she had one; the light overhead is dim, casting an eerie yellow glow, though Natasha doesn't pay much attention to it as she dresses for bed. It's the first night in a long time that she's actually had to sleep there, seeing as how she usually spends most of her nights at Loki's place or where ever she happens to end up after many hours of walking the streets, getting in strange cars and doing what she's paid to do.

But in the end, and just to add to the long list of things she'll never openly admit to, Natasha is and always will be thankful to have the luxury of a bed, a place, and someone like Steve to come home to.

**AN: I apologise for this absolutely pathetic excuse for an update. Hell, this shouldn't even be considered a chapter, but it's better than nothing right? Thanks to a certain someone who has been distracting me by making me draw countless amounts of Stony and other fanfic related doodles, I've been unable to write as much as I'd like to. Don't worry though! The next chapter will be much longer and feature a lot of Blackfrosty goodness, ehehe. Good things come to those who wait, no?**


	4. Fresh Blood

_weeks later._

"Need I remind you again, _milaya moya_?"

_Shit._

Loki's words are almost tender, almost sweet as they're whispered in Natasha's ear, though his voice, as usual, is absolutely dripping with an obscure animosity that isn't entirely directed at her. At the moment, her arms are slung above her head, wrists bound with soft leather straps that have long since moulded to the contours of her bones after so much use, and she stands carefully on the balls of her feet in an effort to keep steady. He enjoys having her like this, all tied up and rendered helpless; it makes her obedient and completely at his mercy. He'd decided to skip right to her punishment tonight, despite the fact that she'd done nothing to deserve it, and had broken out her bindings as soon as she arrived - he'd even decided to use the riding crop for good measure. It's only just now that he's stopped, but unfortunately because she'd forgotten to count again.

"Five." Her pathetic howl is followed by a sharp crack and a searing pain in her backside. It's been a long while since Loki's whippings were pleasurable; now they're really only painful, but Natasha knows better than to cry out when in pain. She's shaking now, but perhaps that's just the withdrawals effecting her considering she hasn't been able to find Bruce for weeks now and Loki recently started refusing her coke until she "learned to be a good little spider".

He responds by dealing another strike and Natasha substitutes her cry with a moan in an effort to make what he finds pleasing, at least somewhat enjoyable to her as well. There's absolutely no way of telling how far he intends to go or for how long, though she's recently began to note that he rarely moves past ten strikes and can only hope that he sticks to that end. Six. _Crack. _Seven. _Crack. _Eight. _Crack. _Nine. _Crack. _Ten. It seems like ages before he's finally finished, and by then Natasha is making every effort to keep from screaming. Her skin burns and her arms ache; she'd give anything for him just to let her down, but the chances of that are little to none - in fact, he's probably intent on taking her just as she is, despite how pitiful she looks. This act, this power play - to anyone else it would have been deemed horrible, frightening and even inhumane, but to them it's seen as a show of affection. Natasha knows little about Loki, aside from what he's told her on those nights when niether particularly feel like fucking or getting smashed (which isn't often, but still) and instead spend their time talking. For example, one night she learned that he'd been adopted by this high and mighty, well-off family, but apparently, and for reasons he refused to disclose, he'd separated himself from them. Another night, Loki had given her a vague description of his brother, how much he despised him and then, surprisingly, went on to explain how hard it is for him to express feelings of kindness and love. They just never came as easily to him as feelings of hatred and pain had, and the result had been him unable to really tell love from hate, pleasure from pain. It's conversations like those that make Natasha realise just how much she and Loki have in common, how equally confused and lost both are.

Of course, Loki has never asked, and it's not as if she'll ever tell him, but Natasha hasn't had the best life. Like him, she'd been adopted as an infant, her parents having died in a house fire shortly after her birth, but while he seemed to have a family who loved and cared for him, she had nothing of the sort; her foster father, Ivan, had beat his wife to death when Natasha was seven, and from there on out, had begun beating her too. Her submission to Loki stems from trauma, stems from what was literally pounded into her brain by a man who craved dominance over his own daughter, and her love for Loki stems from this as well. Natasha has only ever known pain and suffering, so when he hurts her, when he punishes her as he has been, she knows it's merely to show his love and affection. They always say that there's a fine, fine line between love and hate, and that's where she and Loki stand, dazed and looking out over a precipice that threatens to swallow them.

Loki's fingers stroke her bare skin, stroke the wounds he's dealt her and earn him muted whimpers of discontent. "You've done so well tonight," He intones, face barely inches from her own. "Shall I reward you?" At this, Natasha manages to shake her head, refusing to meet his gaze and instead focusing on staring daggers at the ground and throbbing in her joints. This time, she literally wants nothing more to do with Loki and could do without seeing him for a few days. She's worn out and suffering from serious withdrawals, hasn't slept in days despite the fact that he's become more lenient in how often she's allowed home. At this point, Natasha is even slightly hoping that Clint will show up and take her home. Jesus, something is definitely wrong here - can't she just decide what she fucking wants? It's always a constant battle with her, stuck between what's right and what's wrong, what she wants and what she doesn't need. _It's gotta be the lack of drugs. _

"If you're going to fuck me," She groans softly, annoyed and frustrated with herself. "Just get on with it." And of course, there's that insolence again, that sassy side of her that's been showing itself more and more lately. Maybe that's why Loki's been doing more to make her life a living hell, after all, she's supposed to be playing the part of his subservient slave and slaves aren't supposed to treat their masters with such disrespect.

Though she doesn't see it, Loki quirks a lazy brow, almost as if he were intrigued by her horrendous attitude. Meanwhile, his wandering fingers crawl lower and lower, tracing invisible patterns as they work their way down, his free hand moves to cup her chin and violently jerk her head up. Their eyes meet, both sets glassy, complete with the purple rings of sleep deprivation and many years of drug use; he looks horrible, she looks horrible, the victims of their own sad addictions. She still doesn't want to look at him though she can't bring herself to protest even when his cold, roaming fingers find her cunt and he wastes no time in shoving two slender digits inside of her, stroking her roughly. "You should be grateful for what I've given you, you little slut." With this, Loki releases her chin and proceeds to smack her across the face, eliciting a shameful, wanton moan from Natasha and his expression contorts into one of triumph, never once ceasing the merciless pumping of his fingers. He knows that no matter how much she protests, she'll always want him, always love what he does to her, even if it brings her searing pain - the way Natasha grinds against him only accentuates that. When he pulls back and out of her, Loki brings the offending hand up so she can see it, fingers sticky with her arousal, and Natasha is instantly awash with a mixture of degradation and a foreign sense of bliss. Her body has betrayed her, has actually enjoyed the extreme pain she's suffered at the hands of his demeaning actions - though it's not as if she hasn't before - and she can see the evidence of that right before her eyes.

"Pathetic whore," Loki spits as he lifts her chin once more and Natasha gives him a halfhearted glare, trying her hardest to ignore the throbbing between her legs. "Open your mouth." His commmand registers in inconsdierate ears seeing as how Natasha does nothing but press her lips together firmly, causing the oppressive Aesir to smile menacingly. "Tasha, my sweet, if you do not open that pretty mouth of yours, I won't hesitate to break your fucking jaw." His voice is disgustingly sweet, almost horrifying and in response, she swallows hard, does nothing but stare him down and basically fucks herself over in the process. "Or, I suppose, if you'd prefer to stay silent, I could always sew your lips shut - wouldn't that be fun?" Now this is when Natasha realises she's gone too far. She's not worried about a broken jaw or a busted lip, but the thought of him taking a dirty needle and thread to her lips is enough to send shivers down her spine. Loki has always made good on his threats, no matter what they implied, so, slowly, hesitantly, Natasha opens her mouth only to have him place his stained fingers upon her tongue. He clearly wants her to suck, so she does and can taste her own juices on those fingers. "Mm, much better. Now," After a moment, Loki pulls his fingers from her mouth, drawing a thin trail of saliva with them and steps back, almost as if he were an artist admiring his work. Natasha is still soaking wet, arousal practically dripping down her inner thighs; she's looking up at him desperately, breasts heaving as she pants.

"Be a good little slut and beg for me to fuck you."

This last command only serves to increase the ache between Natasha's legs and she can't help the whimper that tears itself from her throat before she begins.

"Fuck me." Her voice is quiet, unsure, but she never takes her eyes off of his own. There is quite a noticable tent in the front of Loki's trousers and Natasha can tell that he's just as eager to fuck as she is, though he loves to hear her beg.

"Come again?"

"I want - I want you to fuck me."

"You're going to have to do much better than that." He's just taking advantage of her now. "Beg for me, slut! Beg for me to make you cum!"

"Please, master!" Natasha moans, breaking. She hates having to beg for anything, despite the fact that she's used to begging for him by now, but when she's this horny and all he's done is tease her - the dirty talk only seemed to exacerbate things - she'll do anything. "Please fuck me, please make me cum. God, it hurts, master. I need you so badly."

Before she knows it, Loki has grabbed her ass, pulled her against him and lifted her up so that her legs are wrapped around his waist; she can clearly feel his errection pressing against her and shamelessly attempts to grind herself against him just as she had done earlier. The worrying pain in her in wrists and arms has long since vanished since, really, all Natasha can think about right now is Loki. Their mouths have met, his lips crushed against her own in a bruising kiss that he'd initiated, tongue forcing into her mouth and attacking her own until both are trapped in a wet, warring battle as heady, pleasured groans sound from both bodies. By now, Loki has managed to bring one hand up to tease her breasts, pinching and rolling each nipple between thumb and forefinger, teasing and tweaking until both are taut and pearled; his other hand still holds her, squeezing her ass every now and then. Natasha wants to touch him so badly, wants to tug at his hair, to rake her nails down his back until he bleeds, but it doesn't seem as if he's going to release her any time soon - this is all for his benefit, after all, to allow him to prove that he is dominant, to show her that he can do whatever he likes to her and she can do nothing to stop him.

Loki continues his ministrations for a bit longer, tongue eagerly stroking her own and running across her teeth, fingers playing with her breasts, then pauses to reach down and skillfully unbutton his jeans, pushing the fabric down about his knees and releasing his straining cock. Just the sight of it makes Natasha whimper with anticipation.

"You really do want this, don't you Tasha? Just imagine what everyone would think of you if they knew how much you love it when I fuck you so hard you can't walk the next day." He slams his cock inside of her then and her heels dig into the small of his back as Natasha lets out a cry of delight. She feels so dirty, so disgusting but it's only normal and something would seriously be wrong if she actually felt like having sex with Loki was right. They begin rocking together with erratic, powerful movements, each of Loki's thrusts sending his cock barreling against her womb every time whilst Natasha's moans grow louder and louder. With all the teasing and foreplay that's already taken place, Natasha's nearly seeing white, already so close to the edge, despite just beginning, that she could lose it any minute, but Loki just keeps coming, his thrusts merciless - he even lifts one of her legs up and heaves it over his shoulder, giving him an entirely new angle from which to attack.

"Loki," Natasha manages to let out between moans and absentmindedly dropping their formality rule. "I-I'm going to-"

"You will not cum until I tell you, do you understand?" He's looking her straight in the face and hasn't even bothered to stop. He speaks so easily, even in the midst of fucking her and for a moment, Natasha can't help but wonder how the fuck he does it, while she's sitting there, whimpering and stammering. Nonetheless, she gives him a quick nod, hoping she can last until he gives her the okay. If worst comes to worst, he'll just leave her like that as another form of punishment, leave her right on the brink of orgasm and make damn well sure she doesn't get off. It's definitely not a frequent thing, but Loki has done it before and Natasha absolutely hates it.

The free hand that's already done so much has slipped between their sated bodies, snaking downwards to tease her clit as Loki continues his assault. Her core is aching with liquid heat, just begging to be released and his constant teasing does nothing to help - even the much desired distraction of his tongue in her mouth once more, is useless. She's already spiraled so high and is ready to come crashing down. _Please, please let me come._

Almost as if he'd read her mind, Loki groans with pleasure and stiffens, cock pulsing and twitching against her tight walls before spilling his seed inside of her with a content sigh before leaning in and whispering a quick "Cum for me, Natasha." in her ear. After that, one of the most intense orgasms she's had in a long time wracks her body, his name spilling from her lips like constant prayer. A lot of the shaking could still be contributed to the fact that she still suffering from those withdrawals, though still, she writhes in his arms, mewling her praise, until he finally pulls out of her and lets her body fall limp once more. She's too busy basking in the afterglow of such a wonderful orgasm that Natasha hardly notices when he removes her cuffs, though when she does come to, she looks up at him almost expectantly.

"We're done here. Go home, Natasha."

And that's that.

**AN: _milaya moya _means "my dear" or "my dearest" in Russian, btw.**

**I'm so sorry for taking so long to update~ This monster of a thing kicked my ass for some reason, so again, my apologies if it ends up really horrible. I'm all rusty writing smut and this was the best I could do, so dlkjfasfa.s I wanted to add in some awkward background junk too so hopefully it's not too bad, ehehe. Next chapter should bring more Stony goodness and more angsty angst. c: -flies into the sun-**


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